Daddy smiled and called me his ‘broken winged child’. I can feel his smile from a distance as I let go of his strong hand, running into the woods. My eyes look back, upon him, lost within a reel of moments, made crystalline by the hand of time. When the moments pass, as the seasons… Continue reading Broken Winged Child
Duskflyer Vision Art & Productions
I am intrigued by the forgotten story and mystery, intricately woven within people, places and objects of abandonment
